Growing up, doesn't mean growing apart
by ConstantlyXChanging
Summary: Five years. It had been five years since her graduation from high school, but it seemed like so much longer.


**Yes, I know the endings crappy, but I couldn't think of anything else. This is how I think the entire series should have ended. You don't have to like it, but _constructive_ criticism is always appreciated. Review please, I think this is the longest story I've ever written!**

**Disclaimer: What, are you kidding me? No way I own OHSHC. I do, however, own this fanfic.**

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Five years.

It had been five years since her graduation from high school, but it seemed like so much longer.

She now worked at a successful law company as an intern, but had kept her short hair style, insisting that it was more 'practical'. Though Tamaki never hesitated to point out that she was so much prettier with longer hair. To which she always responded dryly that if he wanted a girl with longer hair, her could move out and go find him one.

That always shut him up, even if she did have to watch him mope about it in his mushroom-growing corner for an hour.

Haruhi had thought that when she had left high school, she had left her immature days as a host long behind. She had been all set to give it up completely and throw it into the deep recesses of her mind, to never think of, if she could help it, again.

But apparently, fate had a slightly more twisted sense of humor then she had expected.

The twenty-three year old woman sighed as she pushed her way into the kitchen, only to be met with the prospected chorus of morning greetings.

She was somewhat surprised that the twins were up so early, they usually complained, loudly and with many theatrics, about it being 'too ghastly an hour to be up', and she would eventually have to go up and haul them out of bed.

(Or be hauled into theirs as the case may be, to be held captive for another half-an-hour before she pointed out that their breakfast would get cold, and they untangled themselves from each of her sides to grudgingly shuffle down the stairs to the long dining table.)

She refused to submit to their teasing that she let them use her as a certified teddy bear longer each day.

Mainly because they were right.

They just looked so deceptively innocent asleep; she didn't want to disturb them. And besides, it wasn't like she wasn't used to it anyway.

Hani immediately bounced over, attaching himself to her arm, and dragging her over to her customary, Monday, spot between him, and Mori, squealing happily over all of the pastries that their were for brunch that day.

Despite five years, and three inches, he was still the same Hani-sempai he had been when he was seventeen. Even still had Bun-chan, though he no longer carried the stuffed pink-rabbit, saying it wasn't becoming of a vice-kendo trainer.

He said it with such a determined look on his face that she let him pretend she believed him. Haruhi knew for a fact he still slept with the thing, but wouldn't wound his, she wouldn't quite call it 'manly', pride.

Mori nodded and smiled to her, "Good morning, Mori-sempai.", just as he did every morning. Out of all of them, she felt Mori had changed the least. She supposed co-owning a dojo with Hani would do that to a person.

Kyouya didn't even look up from his legers as he told her, "You are five minutes late." Glancing at her for a second beneath his wire-rimmed glasses, he went back to scribbling in his notebook minutely before snapping it shut.

Watching his re-adjust his glasses, she thought back to a time when the sight of him writing in his legendary notebook made a chill go up her spine. Sometimes now she had to shake herself, reminding herself forcibly that she no longer owed a dept she, thought, she could never repay.

But repay it she did.

The day of graduation all of the hosts had teamed up to hold her a party in honor of working of her eight-million yen dept. The young-woman never let on that she suspected who had asked her father for her favorite type of icing on the overly-decorated cake, or who the only person her father would let look in her closet to find where she was lacking in the clothing department, then order it in her favorite color was.

Haruhi knew he would just deny it as a; 'merit where merit is do' kind of thing. So she had just kissed him on the cheek as a thank you, and ignored the way his gray eyes widened in shock before he hid them behind the glare off his lenses.

Tamaki smiled at her, snapping her back to reality. He held out a dish piled with pink-tuna, which she had finally been able to taste at her graduation party, and had loved ever since.

Offering him a grin as a thanks, she heaped some onto her plate, before reaching for a banana and slicing it into easier-to-swallow bites. Her appetite hadn't taken a hit with leaving Ouran high either, that was for sure.

Turning to Kyouya she questioned, "So, who's today?" Helping herself to a generous bite of giant tuna as she waited for his answer.

Opening a different list from the one he had been flipping through earlier, he gave a quick once over, and responded, "Monday: Haruhi; Table three. Meaning five of your regulars, unless someone else Host-Floats over to you today."

Considering it as he left the think black book propped open of the edge of the table he continued as an after-thought, "Not likely. Renge is supposed to stop by tomorrow as well, so you may be a little late to your intern job."

Nodding absently, she went over the possibilities of getting an hour of personal time. "That's due able. My boss said he was going to take the day off on Tuesday and that I could come in late if I wanted. We won't be busy." The dark-haired host didn't say anything. Haruhi hadn't expected him to.

Being friends with Tamaki had enabled him to tell when someone was speaking directly to him, or musing to themselves, as she had been.

Heaving another sigh, she finished her brunch and hurried back up the stairs to change into her Host uniform. Sakura Kiss Host Club opened in about an hour, so she decided to skip the shower; she had just taken one last night anyway.

Retrieving her deep burgundy outfit, that always reminded her slightly of her old Ouran High School boy's pant set, she changed and slipped into her shoes on her way out the door.

It was a prosperous set up really. The main lobby was the salon, and creepily similar to the original, only with a grand, carpeted staircase that lead up to their rooms. The stairs, as well as the rooms, were off limits to customers, a fact the twins had groaned at.

Thankfully, they had chorused in unison, _Haruhi_ wasn't, technically, a customer.

And without further ado, Hikaru had flanked her left and Kaoru her right, and whisked her up the stairs, Tamaki following hot on their heels, wailing for 'Mom', to help him get their precious daughter away from the two diabolical demons, as he put it.

Used to being dragged all over Japan, she had hung limply in the duo's grasp, grumbling to herself mentally, asking herself why she had agreed to this.

Stepping into the parlor, she meandered over to that day's table, and took her seat. Observing her friends antics, she wondered idly if she hadn't broken that vase, if they ever would have met.

Kyouya: Distant and calculating.

Tamaki: Flamboyant and overly-dramatic

Hikaru and Kaoru: Theatric and 'refreshing'

Hani: Hyper and boyish

Mori: Quiet and mature

'Nah.' The ex-cross dresser mused. 'We never would have met, I never would have broken that vase and had to work off my dept as a Host, and probably none of us would be here now.'

She rolled her eyes at the girls swooning around Tamaki, and glared as several girls squealed as the brothers put on their usual, 'Brotherly Love Act'.

She grinned at Hani, and watched Mori wipe the cake off his face, and raised and eyebrow at the endless question as to why Kyouya never had any designators.

She honestly would never get them.

'And you know what?' The girl realized suddenly. 'I really wouldn't want it any other way.'


End file.
